


then you never want it again

by hereticpop



Category: SMAP
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-06
Updated: 2011-09-06
Packaged: 2017-11-09 20:12:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/457909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hereticpop/pseuds/hereticpop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So”, Kimura asks conversationally. He makes a face at an insect buzzing next to his ear, as if it were more important than what he is saying – and maybe it is. “You’re fucking Goro?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	then you never want it again

“So”, Kimura asks conversationally. He makes a face at an insect buzzing next to his ear, as if it were more important than what he is saying – and maybe it is. “You’re fucking Goro?”

Nakai winces at his choice of words.

“I wouldn’t put it that way. But yes.”

“Mhm.” Kimura nods as if he knew and Nakai wonders what his problem is.

It was getting dark when he walked out of the studio and headed towards his car, the stiff summery air stroking his bare arms with the first chills of the evening. It promised to be a nice evening. But that was before he heard Kimura calling his name and automatically turned, so he couldn’t pretend he hadn’t heard. He stopped by the car and stood there with hands buried deep in the pockets of his pants, head lowered, just listening to the footsteps of the man running to him across the car park. It was strange, because Kimura’s steps sounded bouncy and cheerful, while something was gripping Nakai’s stomach tightly and he could tell it wasn’t going to be nice. Kimura had only called his name, it was enough.

And now he rocks on his feet in front of Nakai like a little boy excited for a bag of candy. Pouting slightly, he doesn’t realise or it’s all a part of the act.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Nakai shrugs. He fishes his cigarettes out of his bag and lights up.

“He told you, so what does it matter?”

“Actually, Tsuyoshi told me. Apparently he’d missed the message about _not_ telling me, which Shingo kindly pointed out. Now they’re both scared of you.”

Nakai almost laughs, and it would be a bitter laugh if he did. He can’t even get angry at them, he knew all along he couldn’t keep this secret forever. It was too hopeless to even try. He did try and so it’s all his own fault and he just hopes Kimura didn’t corner Goro about it earlier. Something tells him Kimura didn’t. Something tells him there is a reason why Kimura is now here, his gaze burning Nakai’s skin and Nakai wonders if he’s coming down with something. Because it feels like a fever.

But he is done dealing with fire.

And he knows he has been right, because Goro didn’t tell Kimura even though he wanted to, and Nakai is so thankful to him that he is going to buy expensive wine and go to Goro’s and stay (he rarely does) and he won’t be cynical about it and maybe it won’t kill him.

Kimura’s next question mercilessly bursts his bubble.

“Does he know?”

“What?” Nakai’s mind wanders to the number of things Goro might not know, and which exactly is Kimura alluding to? But one look at Kimura’s face tells him already, the way he smiles and it isn’t a smile at all, and his face is all yellow and sick in the light of the streetlamps, like he could be dead.

“About all those times you knocked on the door of my hotel room? Drunk and desperate to get into my pants? And that one time I let you—”

“No,” Nakai cuts off. “Will you tell him?”

“Should I?”

Deep, deep inside, beneath the chill that runs down between his shoulder blades, Nakai knows that Kimura won’t. And he hates him for that, because it would be so much easier if he did, if he just gave Nakai a reason to hate him. Oh, but no, he has to stand there, too close, with something open about him, with a promise vibrating at the corner of his lips that whatever Nakai says, he will do.

It’s like someone’s took Nakai’s desire and distorted it and twisted and completely misinterpreted it into something the most cruel.

“You never wanted me anyway.” His raspy whisper is barely audible.

“What if I do now?” Kimura tries to look him in the eye, but Nakai won’t let him. “Nakai. Just one word.”

_Even right now, in your car_ , he seems to be saying, or it’s just the shadows on his face.

“Fuck off. Are two words fine with you?” Nakai is surprised himself how cold his voice sounds. He takes a drag of his cigarette and thinks he doesn’t need any of this.

He turns his head towards Kimura and parts his lips, intending to exhale the smoke right into his face, but even before the breath leaves his lungs, he can feel a forceful hand at the back of his head and Kimura’s mouth covers his in a strange kiss. Then he realises it’s not a kiss. Kimura is inhaling, sucking the air out of him and Nakai can do nothing but give it up. It could be his life being sucked out just as well, and he would probably give it up too, right now.

_the world drops dead_ and he can’t see anything but he can, sort of, see the inside of his mouth, the inside of Kimura’s mouth and the poison they are sharing, his consciousness is on his own tongue and the reality is dark red and so warm, but there is a sky somewhere above him, violet, and it will take years, whole ages and he still won’t be able to forget this

Kimura breaks away and turns his head to exhale a cloud of silvery smoke into the air. Nakai can only watch the vapour of his life swirling up to the sky, still feeling the moist hotness of Kimura’s mouth, drowning in it. He almost forgets to breathe himself.

“You could’ve just asked for a smoke,” he finally says trying to downplay it, but his voice is way too high to sound convincing.

“I won’t ask you for anything anymore,” Kimura promises.

_You never did_ , Nakai wants to tell him but all he can see now is Kimura’s back in a bright coloured t-shirt and that particular way of his hips as he walks away.


End file.
